Page 81 of The Christmas Romance Wish

“Have you seen yourself drive?” CJ asks.

“I take road safety seriously.”

“And you offer no quarter to people who cut you off.”

“It’s rude. Anyway, I currently don’t have a car.”

“Because you’re a big city slicker.”

“I’m not that excited about moving into Royal’s penthouse.”

“I know.”

“What don’t you know?” I ask, suspicious.

Last I checked, CJ occupied CJ-land and never leaves. Visitors needed a day pass to enter.

“I don’t know why you’re being a dumb-butt about Alex.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Never mind that. What you need to know is don’t let love slip through your fingers because you’re telling yourself a story. Focus on the truth.”

Wise words I never expected to hear out of my sunbaked brother’s mouth.

“Sound advice.”

“Glad you think so because I’m going to be a dad and?—”

“You’re what?!”

“Just come back to Coco Key, Emmie. We miss you. All of us.” Before I can say another word, he hangs up.

I remain seated on the bed for a long moment before wandering to the window. For so long, when I looked outside, I saw a cement wall. From Royal’s penthouse, I’ll avoid the windows because it’s so high up.

But here, I feel grounded and yet like the heavens are boundless. I gaze at the stars sparkling in the sky. The moon bathing the snow white. On the lawn, the snow angel I made earlier comes into focus.

With it comes the truths of the last few days in the form of snapshots—Alex and I meeting in person for the first time. His position of command and friendship among the brotherhood of vets. Not going to deny his muscles make an appearance. Us snuggled up in the Jeep and him curing my hiccups. There was everything that happened in a whirlwind of Christmas excitement.

Then the biggest bit of nonfiction slides into my mind. I love Alex.

I hope he’ll understand why I was being a dumb-butt, in CJ’s words. Who also offered the sage wisdom that I do not tell myself fictional stories. Save those for the page.

But I need more than a miracle to make this work.

Then again, what else is this season for if not hope?

I find Alex gazing into the fire at the hearth and the stockings with our names on them. The stairs don’t make so much as a squeak, but he turns, sensing my approach.

His eyes burn then soften. He opens his mouth.

Holding up my hands, I shake my head, needing to speak first. “I’m sorry. Sorry for being a dumb-butt. For doubting us. Please, be my Mr. Claus.”

Alex strides toward me, relief washing through his features. “It all happened so fast. I’m sorry if I scared you off.”

“You didn’t. I did that myself. I’ve been scaring myself off from living my life. My parents wouldn’t have wanted mehiding away in other people’s stories. My brothers don’t actually want to lock me away in a tower. Chip, my grandfather, was the grand master of adventures. Granted, was quite a bit older by the time I was able to go on them, but he’d want this for me. So do I.” I wag my finger between us, knowing how much Chip loved my grandmother.

Alex wraps his arms around me, breathing hard as if he’d just carried me up the sledding hill. He’s relieved, overjoyed. In love. So am I.

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